HOBART   COLLEGE    BULLETINS 


Vol.  VI 


OCTOBER,  1907 


No.  1 


iMmtroriai  Srilmfr  to  Sxt\\n 


Published  by  Hobart  College,  Geneva,  N.  Y.     Issued  quarterly. 

Entered  October  28,  1902,  at  Geneva,  N.  Y.,   as  second-class 

matter,  under  Act  of  Congress  of  July  16,  1894. 


APPEAL 

FOR  COPIES  OF  HOBART  PUBLICATIONS 

In  order  properly  to  fill  out  its  sets,  the  College  is  in 
need  of  the  following  issues  of  Hobart  publications : 

Catalogue: — 1837-38,  1838-39,  1844-45,  1^>4^>~49> 
1850-51,  1864-65,  1880-81. 

Echo: — Vols.  I-XI  (Classes  of  1857-187 2)  inclusive; 
Vols.  XXI  (Classes  of  1882),  XXXV  (Class  of  1897), 
XXXIX  (Class  of  1901),  XL  (Class  of  1902),  XLI  (Class 
of  1903). 

Herald: — Vols.  I-VI  (1877-1885)  inclusive,  any  num- 
bers; Vol.  VII  (1885-86),  Nos.  3,  4,  5,  7;  Vol.  VIII 
(1886-87),  Nos.  1,  2,  3,  5,  7;  Vol.  IX  (1887-88),  Nos. 
1,  2,  3,  4,  5;  Vol.  X  (1888-89),  Nos.  3,  5,  8,  9;  Vol.  XI 
(1889-90),  Nos.  5,  10;  Vol.  XVI  (1894-95),  Nos.  1,  6,  10; 
Vol.  XVII  (1895-96),  No.  1;  Vol.  XVIII  (1896-97)^0. 
8;  Vol.  XXII  (1900-01),  No.  3.  The  deficiencies  in  Vols. 
I-VII  (1877-86)  and  XVI  (1894-95),  are  especially 
serious. 

It  is  earnestly  desired  that  anyone  who  is  in  a  position 
to  do  so  will  send  the  above  mentioned  issues  (any 
numbers,  however  scattering,  will  be  useful),  to  the 
Librarian  of  the  College,  Dr.  Charles  D.  Vail. 


ADDRESS  TO  THE  ALUMNI 

To  the  Alumni  of  Hob  art  College: 
Gentlemen : 

The  college  year  of  1907-08  opens  with  bright  prospects 
for  Hobart.  The  walls  of  the  William  Smith  Hall  of 
Science  are  well  above  ground  and  the  remodeling  of 
Smith  House,  which  is  to  be  the  first  dormitory  of  Smith 
College,  is  progressing  favorably.  The  plans  for  the  new 
Gymnasium  have  been  completed  and  accepted,  the  exca- 
vation is  already  well  advanced,  and  it  is  our  present 
intention  to  lay  the  corner  stone  on  the  fifteenth  of 
November.  After  this  the  foundation  walls  will  be 
properly  protected  for  the  winter  but  no  further  work 
will  be  attempted  until  spring. 

In  addition  to  progress  on  the  new  buildings  it 
gives  me  great  pleasure  to  report  that  Hobart  has 
received  the  magnificent  bequest  of  the  library  of  the  late 
Mr.  John  Safford  Fiske  of  Alassio,  Italy.  The  books  have 
already  arrived  in  Geneva  and  have  been  placed  upon 
the  shelves.  They  number  in  all  about  four  thousand. 
Not  only  is  this  collection  rich  in  valuable  works  on  art 
but  it  also  provides  us  with  a  much  needed  installment 
of  Italian  literature.  As  Hobart  is  offering  this  year  for 
the  first  time  courses  in  Spanish  and  Italian  Mr.  Fiske's 
noble  gift  has  arrived  in  the  nick  of  time.  A  full  account 
of  this  bequest  from  the  pen  of  Prof.  McDaniels  is  the 
outstanding  feature  of  the  present  Bulletin. 

In  closing  this  brief  address  to  the  Alumni  I  can  but 
reiterate  the  statement  which  I  made  to  them  in  my 
circular  letter  of  last  April.     In  that  letter  and  after 

(3) 


4  Hobart  College 

pointing  out  the  increase  in  the  amount  of  the  tuition 
fees  and  the  general  betterment  of  our  financial  condition 
I  added,  "Our  improved  showing  has  been  due  to  two 
facts ;  to  wit :  the  generous  contributions  of  the  Alumni 
and  the  growth  of  the  undergraduate  body.  Will  you 
not,  therefore,  bear  these  facts  in  mind  and  earnestly  seek 
opportunities  to  send  us  students  and  to  continue  and 
enlarge  the  Alumni  fund?" 

Now  we  have  had  many  encouragements  since  this 
letter  was  written.  The  Commencement  of  last  June 
was  admitted  by  all  to  have  been  the  most  enthusiastic 
as  well  as  the  most  largely  attended  in  the  whole  history 
of  the  College.  The  men  who  came  back  brought  with 
them  a  fine  spirit  of  loyalty  and  devotion  which  augured 
well  for  the  future .  The  class  of ' 8  2 , in  particular ,  held  its 
25th  anniversary  in  force  and  made  a  new  departure  in 
presenting  a  contribution  of  $600.00  to  the  Endowment 
Fund.  During  the  summer,  Mr.  Powell  Evans  of  the 
Class  of  '&&  also  sent  us  $1000.00  for  the  same  fund.  All 
these  are  hopeful  symptoms  of  better  things  to  come  and 
helpful  stimuli  to  their  achievement. 

Nevertheless,  although  we  gladly  and  gratefully  ac- 
knowledge these  welcome  signs  of  loyalty  among  the 
Alumni,  I  cannot  and  ought  not  to  hide  from  you  the 
fact  that  the  Alumni  Fund,  now  in  its  fourth  year,  is 
steadily  decreasing.  Beginning  with  five  thousand 
dollars  ($5000.00)  in  1905,  it  fell  to  four  thousand,  two 
hundred  thirty  dollars  ($4230.00)  in  1 907 ,  and  this  year,  it 
will  sink  well  below  the  $4000.00  mark.  Now  will  not  you 
gentlemen  of  the  Alumni  take  these  facts  to  heart?  Will 
you  not  furthermore  actively  exert  yourselves  not  merely 
to  keep  up  and  if  possible  increase  your  subscriptions 
but  also  to  send  us  new  students?     The  large  increase  in 


Address  to  the  Alumni  5 

the  undergraduate  body  of  Dartmouth  College  during 
the  past  ten  years  has  been  due,  under  President  Tucker, 
to  the  hard  work  done  by  Dartmouth  alumni  all  over 
the  country.  Even  in  the  far  West  and  on  the  Pacific 
Coast  the  Dartmouth  men  have  flourishing  associations 
and  yearly  send  a  goodly  number  of  young  fellows  to  the 
little  town  among  the  New  Hampshire  hills.  The 
Hobart  men  are  quite  capable  of  doing  a  like  work  if 
they  can  but  awake  to  its  necessity  and  realize  their  own 
importance  as  factors  in  the  welfare  and  development  of 
their  Alma  Mater.  We  begin  this  year  with  a  total 
registration  of  one  hundred  students.  Of  these  sixty- 
five  are  old  men  and  thirty-five  are  new.  Four  or  five 
years  ago  thirty-five  would  have  been  regarded  as  a  good 
class  for  Hobart  but  we  have  the  right  to  expect  better 
things  for  the  future.  It  has  been  very  difficult,  so 
students  tell  me,  to  induce  men  to  enter  up  at  Hobart 
because  we  were  without  a  gymnasium,  but  the  corner 
stone  of  the  Gymnasium,  as  I  have  already  announced, 
will  be  laid  in  November  and  we  expect  to  have  it  com- 
pleted in  June.  It  has  also  been  difficult  to  persuade 
students  to  come  to  a  college  where  no  courses  were 
offered  in  Biology  and  Political  Economy,  but  next  year 
these  courses  will  be  open  to  all  applicants  and  Hobart 
will  then  have  a  thoroughly  modern  and  complete 
curriculum.  To  obtain  students  we  must  of  course 
furnish  them  with  the  educational  facilities  they  crave. 

Now  I  have  stated  these  facts  to  the  Alumni  because  I 
wish  them  to  realize  on  the  one  hand  that  it  has  been 
passing  hard  to  make  bricks  without  straw  and  on  the 
other  that  our  equipment  is  now  of  such  a  character 
as  to  warrant  any  man  in  sending  his  sons  to  Hobart  or 
in  influencing  his  friends  to  do  the  like.     We  do  not  pre- 


6  Hobart  College 

tend  to  do  university  work  but  our  college  work,  always 
good  as  far  as  it  went,  will  next  year  meet  all  the  im- 
portant and  essential  demands  of  collegiate  education. 
Such  being  the  condition  of  things  here  in  Geneva  and 
such  being  our  prospects  for  the  future,  we  of  the  faculty 
turn  our  faces  to  the  students  of  former  years  and  ask 
them  to  fill  their  vacant  places  with  new  men.  The 
prospects  for  the  class  entering  in  '08,  are  exceptionally 
good  and  indeed  there  is  no  reason  why  this  class  should 
not  number  sixty  men  next  September  if  the  Alumni  but 
give  the  matter  their  earnest  attention  and  heartfelt 
effort.  For  myself  I  can  say  that  I  have  never  made  any 
appeal  to  the  Alumni  which  has  been  altogether  in  vain 
and  I  am  therefore  encouraged  to  hope  that  this  last 
appeal  of  mine  will  meet  with  a  ready  and  wide  response. 
I  am,  gentlemen  of  the  Alumni, 

Faithfully  yours, 

Langdon  C.  Stewardson 


JOHN  SAFFORD  FISKE 

The  valuable  library  which  has  lately  come  to  Hobart 
College  from  Alassio,  Italy,  is  one  of  the  largest  and 
most  important  collections  which  it  has  ever  received  by 
bequest.  It  is  the  library  of  a  connoisseur  in  art,  of  a 
student  of  certain  epochs  of  French  history  and  of 
Italian  literature, — the  slow  and  painstaking  growth  and 
accumulation  of  many  years  of  study  and  research.  It 
fills,  too,  a  great  gap  in  the  equipment  of  the  college 
library,  and  curiously  enough  the  giver  of  this  timely  and 
much-needed  accession  had  partly  in  mind  for  many 
years  the  object  of  enriching  our  library,  though  he  was 
unknown  to  our  alumni  and  to  the  friends  of  the  college. 
It  does  not  seem  right  that  our  benefactor  should  remain 
totally  unknown  to  us — a  mere  name  to  be  inscribed  on  a 
tablet  of  brass.  I  am,  therefore,  frankly  grateful  for  the 
opportunity  of  paying  my  tribute  to  the  memory  of  an 
old  friend  and  of  introducing  to  the  alumni  of  the  college 
their  secret  benefactor — a  personality  interesting  and 
captivating  to  an  unusual  degree. 

Mr.  John  Safford  Fiske  was  born  in  Ohio,  January  18, 
1838,  and  was  a  graduate  of  Yale  University  in  the  class 
of  1863.  On  both  sides  his  family  has  been  American 
for  over  two  hundred  and  fifty  years.  His  father  was  of 
Suffolk  (England)  stock,  ancient  and  honorable;  his 
mother  also  of  English  stock  had  a  great-great-grand- 
father in  the  English  army.  His  great-grandfather 
served  on  the  staff  of  Washington.  After  graduating 
Mr.  Fiske  spent  some  years  as  United  States  consul  at 
Leith  (Edinburgh) ;  then  a  year  in  Diisseldorf  where  he 
occupied   himself   with   painting   and   architecture.     In 

(7) 


8  Hobart  College 

1874,  after  some  years  in  the  United  States,  he  returned 
to  Europe  where  he  lived  in  Diisseldorf,  Pinneberg 
(Holstein),  and  Ecouen,  near  Paris,  with  a  year  at 
Constantinople  (1876-77). 

In  1882  he  settled  at  Alassio  on  the  Riviera  between 
Genoa  and  San  Remo.  His  occupation  during  this  time 
was  partly  literary,  partly  artistic.  In  1873  he  pub- 
lished a  translation  of  Taine's  ' 'Voyage  aux  Pyrenees;" 
he  also  wrote  of  current  events  to  various  newspapers 
from  Sweden,  Russia,  Germany,  Turkey,  Greece  and 
Italy.  He  furnished  more  recently  a  number  of  articles 
to  the  "Dictionary  of  Architecture  and  Building" 
edited  by  Russell  Sturgis.  In  a  report  to  the  secretary 
of  the  class  of  1863,  he  says,  characteristically:  "My 
literary  baggage  is  so  modest  that  I  have  diffidence  in 
mentioning  the  degree  of  L.H.D.  conferred  upon  me  by 
Hobart  College  in  1897.  #  #  #  I  may  also  mention 
that  the  same  college  invited  me  to  give  courses  of 
lectures  on  architecture,  an  invitation  which  my  resi- 
dence abroad  compelled  me  regretfully  to  decline." 

I  have  lately  glanced  over  some  of  the  bulletins  which 
Mr.  Fiske  used  to  send  regularly  to  The  Nation — his 
occasional  summaries  of  the  progress  of  Italian  literature. 
They  are  distinguished  at  once  from  the  ordinary  per- 
functory notice,  savoring  of  the  advertising  advance 
sheet,  by  the  penetration,  the  discrimination,  the  ac- 
curacy of  his  characterization,  the  completeness  with 
which  he  sketches  and  sums  up  an  author's  qualities  in 
the  brief  space  at  his  disposal.  The  better  one  knows 
the  literature  he  tasted,  the  more  perfect  appear  these 
brief  sketches  and  cameos.  What  he  has  to  say  of 
authors  so  manifold  and  diverse,  of  the  poets,  Carducci 
and  Gabriele  d'  Annunzio;    of  the  novelists,  Fogazzaro, 


John  Safford  Fiske  9 

Calandra,  Pirandello,  Matilde  Serao;  of  the  essays  of 
Dino  Mantovani,  of  Belli's  astonishing  sonnets,  is  so  apt, 
so  hits  the  mark,  is  so  touched  with  a  happy  humor  that 
you  constantly  wish  he  had  had  more  elbow  room,  and  a 
permanent  casket  for  the  jewels  he  has  flung  liberally 
into  the  columns  of  a  newspaper  to  be  buried  in  the  files 
of  the  library  stackroom.  You  see  that  these  apprecia- 
tions are  the  product  of  slow  and  careful  reading,  or 
re-reading  con  amore ;  that  they  come  from  a  mind  tho- 
roughly stored,  yet  drawing  lightly  and  easily  from  its 
stores,  with  a  taste  as  nice,  as  delicate,  as  sure  as  that 
which  he  applied  to  art  and  architecture.  He  has,  to 
quote  his  own  words  of  Mantovani,  "a  light,  graceful, 
persuasive  form  and  the  faculty  of  expressing  the 
opinion  that  seems  the  fine  fleur  of  cultivated  refined 
common  sense."  I  wish  I  might  illustrate  the  urbanity 
of  his  humor,  his  keen  and  subtle  observation.  There 
is  a  letter  from  Constantinople,  flung  into  the  columns 
of  The  Telegraph,  which  one  might  read  with  pleasure 
after  Gautier,  or  Loti,  or  De  Amicis.  There  is  one  from 
Sardinia  which  includes  a  miniature  of  the  scenery  and 
the  people.  It  is  a  shame  that  such  things  should  vanish. 
You  can  read  them  over  and  over,  for  they  are  in  reality 
small  pieces  of  the  gold  of  literature.  They  ought  to 
have  been  expanded  into  a  little  book  of  essays. 

The  numerous  papers  which  he  wrote  on  the  Columb- 
ian Exposition  at  Chicago,  on  some  Piedmontese  Sanctu- 
aries at  Varallo  and  the  neighborhood,  his  review  of 
Fritsch's  great  work  on  German  architecture  of  the 
Renaissance,  his  penetrating  and  illuminating  discussion 
of  Palladio's  architecture  at  Vicenza,  illustrate  the 
solidity  and  variety  of  his  knowledge  and  training  in 
matters    of   art,    and    of   architecture   especially.     The 


io  Hobart  College 

range  of  his  acquaintance  with  churches  and  monuments 
was  very  wide  and  accurate  and  it  was  a  knowledge  at 
first  hand.  He  had  seen  and  examined  with  his  own  eyes 
the  most  interesting  edifices  and  remains  from  Constanti- 
nople to  Spain,  in  the  West  from  Sicily  to  Great  Britain. 
The  cathedrals  he  had  studied  with  the  eye  of  an  archi- 
tect; in  Northern  Italy  and  the  Ligurian  coast  he  had 
traversed  every  step  at  leisure  more  than  once,  and  he 
could  describe  to  you  the  minutest  peculiarities  and  the 
special  places  in  architectural  development  of  every 
little  church  in  such  spots  as  Noli,  or  Albenga,  or  Andorra. 
He  had  been  the  cicerone  of  Freeman  in  his  travels  in 
Sicily  which  laid  the  foundation  of  his  great  work  on 
that  island ;  he  had  been  the  intimate  companion  of  the 
scholar  and  diplomatist,  Eugene  Schuyler,  in  voyages 
through  the  Levant  and  the  Aegean  sea — a  brace  of 
comrades  they  made  who  between  them  possessed  all  the 
languages  and  most  of  the  dialects  which  unlock  the 
secrets  of  those  polyglot  coasts  and  islands.  One  can 
only  regret,  in  perusing  these  scattered  dissertations, 
that  they  have  never  been  collected  and  expanded  into  a 
volume  which  would  have  allured  by  its  style  and  in- 
structed by  its  matter.  It  is  a  pity  that  Mr.  Fiske  denied 
himself  the  making  of  a  book,  while  so  many  flood  the 
world  with  productions  whose  absence  we  could  serenely 
tolerate.  His  contributions  to  Sturgis's  Dictionary  of 
Architecture  gave  him  little  satisfaction,  as  they  were  so 
frequently  mutilated  by  the  exigency  of  space.  Various 
lectures  which  he  read  from  time  to  time  would  have 
deserved  a  permanent  form.  They  would  have  served  as 
valuable  parts  of  a  college  course  on  art  and  architecture. 
In  such  services  Mr.  Fiske's  talent  and  equipment  would 
have  been  admirably  employed  if  his  health  had  per- 


John  S afford  Fiske  ii 

mitted  him  to  spend  his  winters  in  this  country.  He 
would  have  allured  and  rejoiced  his  students  by  the  grace 
and  bonhommie  of  his  teaching.  It  is  a  pity  that  those 
of  us  who  are  dessicated  in  the  professorial  business, 
and  who  are  parts  of  the  praiseworthy  machine  wherein 
students  and  instructors  grind  together,  could  not  have 
our  places  filled  at  intervals  by  these  fresh  spirits  who 
have  worked  con  amove,  without  any  distant  thought  of 
bread  and  butter  and  wife  and  child. 

Besides  these  literary  gifts  Mr.  Fiske  had  a  talent  for 
acting  which  was  something  extraordinary  and  really 
worth  mention.  To  say  that  he  surpassed  many  pro- 
fessionals is  a  dubious  compliment;  for  we  know  what 
some  of  the  professionals  are,  even  on  our  New  York 
stage.  I  saw  him  take  the  part  of  Auld  Robin  Gray  at 
the  little  theatre  in  Alassio,  and  though  there  was  good 
acting  and  mellow  English  voices,  he  was  by  general 
acclaim,  the  star  of  the  evening.  Such  finesse  and 
delicacy,  such  subtility  of  tone  and  expression  of  feature, 
such  reserve  and  completeness  belong  to  the  best  of  the 
profession;  within  the  demands  of  the  slender  role  to 
which  he  confined  himself  it  is  difficult  to  see  how  the 
best  trained  and  most  experienced  actor  could  have 
excelled  him. 

His  letters  to  his  friends,  too,  belonged  to  a  generation 
when  people  had  leisure.  He  could  not  be  slipshod,  or 
banal,  or  commonplace,  or  confine  himself  to  mere  matters 
of  fact.  He  could  not  wear  his  dressing  gown  when  he 
met  you  in  this  way.  He  gave  you  something  of  him- 
self, as  he  liked  to  give  you  his  best  wine  at  dinner.  He 
let  his  fancy  play,  his  expression  was  as  neat  and  clear  as 
his  handwriting.  His  friends  remember  what  that  was 
to  the  end. 


12  Hobart  College 

Of  course  such  a  habit  implies  leisure,  and  Mr.  Fiske 
enjoyed  a  great  deal  of  what  might  be  called  elegant 
leisure — certainly,  not  idle  leisure.  He  had  for  many 
years  his  time  at  his  command;  but  he  used  it  in  wide 
and  leisurely  travel,  or  in  constant  reading  or  writing 
when  he  was  at  home.  When  he  travelled  he  used  the 
eye  of  a  trained  artist  and  observer,  and  above  all  he  was 
the  delight  and  source  of  a  social  life.  No  one  who  knew 
him  during  the  last  twenty  years  of  his  life  could  think  of 
him  apart  from  his  villa  ''Costa  Lupara"  and  the  be- 
witching garden  which  he  opened  hospitably  and  freely 
to  his  friends  and  to  the  refined  society  of  the  colony  of 
Alassio.  His  garden  was  a  small  paradise  in  that 
sequestered  spot  once  uncorrupted  by  the  casual  tourist, 
and  even  now  in  spite  of  modernizing  processes  and  a 
brief  invasion  of  coronets  and  crowns,  a  peculiarly 
attractive  nook  of  the  western  Riviera,  twenty-seven 
miles  from  San   Remo. 

It  is  vain  to  attempt  to  convey  an  idea  to  those  who 
battle  with  our  grudging  northern  climate  and  its  many 
pests,  of  the  exuberant  growths  which  the  semi-tropical 
sun  of  the  Riviera  nurses  into  perennial  splendour. 
The  garden  paths  of  Costa  Lupara  wound  and  climbed 
far  up  the  terraces  of  a  hill-side,  luxuriant  with  the  dark 
rich  green  of  olive  trees,  so  steep  that  its  salita  was  trod- 
den only  by  the  peasants  and  their  mules  mounting  to 
the  skyline,  where  two  thousand  feet  above,  a  single  gap 
looked  toward  the  cloud-like  ridges  of  dazzling  snowy 
Alps.  All  fragrant  flowers  of  the  temperate  zone 
blossomed  there  respondent  to  that  happy  climate — 
tuberoses,  beds  of  iris,  and  pansies  and  forget-me-nots 
alternations  of  golden  and  crimson  bugles  glancing  from 
the  trellised  vines  that  curtained  with  dark  green  the 


John  Safford  Fiske  13 

graceful  pillars  and  arches  of  the  loggia,  while  strange 
fantastic  cactuses  burst  suddenly  into  delicious  sur- 
prises of  pink  bell-mouthed  blossoms  tipped  with  blue. 
Rare  roses — the  Fortune's  Yellow — poured  cataracts 
down  the  banks  and  spread  in  torrents  over  tall  trees, 
with  a  profusion  and  perfection  incredible  to  us  who 
fight  so  hard  for  the  lives  of  a  few  straggling  bushes.  All 
these  harmonies  of  artistic  arrangement,  these  silent  sur- 
prises week  after  week,  these  varied  hues  and  graceful 
caprices,  were  planned  and  designed  by  the  owner  him- 
self He  knew  the  time  and  place  of  every  tiniest  flower ; 
he  had  assigned  its  part  in  that  annual  symphony  of 
beauty  and  fragrance.  As  he  sat  beneath  one  of  the 
enormous  spreading  palms,  impervious  to  sun  or  rain, 
and  wrote  at  his  table,  casting  a  glance  now  and  then  at 
the  amethyst  of  the  Mediterranean  set  against  the  noble 
headland  of  Capo  Mele,  he  was  indeed  the  Power, 
the  Genius  of  the  spot,  watching  over  a  garden,  in  sober 
truth,  more  beautiful  and  lavish  and  captivating  than 
Shelley  describes  in  his  Sensitive  Plant.  All  that  the 
poet  paints  in  his  melodious  verse  was  there — all  and 
more  too,  made  vocal  day  and  night  by  the  sound  of 
nightingales,  and  at  dusk  by  the  faint  cry  of  the  hylas, 
or  the  sound  of  distant  chimes  from  the  ancient  village 
church,  or  at  dawn  by  the  thin  faint  piercing  cockcrow 
from  fields  where  the  early  peasant  toiled, — sole  message 
from  mankind  to  penetrate  this  enchanted  seclusion. 

I  have  taken  the  liberty  to  suggest  this  intimate  picture 
of  " Costa  Lupara" — the  garden  and  house — because 
each  was,  in  a  sense,  the  expression  of  my  friend, — in 
each  he  expressed  his  passion  for  ordered  beauty  and  for 
art,  just  as  his  library  expressed  the  direction  of  his 
research  and  investigation,  his  taste  for  literature  and 


14  Hobart  College 

art.  His  house  grew  about  him  and  fitted  him  as  nicely 
as  his  shell  fits  a  snail,  or  rather,  as  the  chambered 
Nautilus  builds  his  home.  It  was  his  own  design, 
practically,  the  frescoes,  the  carved  mantels,  the  elabor- 
ate and  delicate  harmonies  of  color,  the  arrangement  of 
tapestries  and  the  pictures  which  were  mostly  mementos 
of  beloved  artist  friends.  His  house,  one  might  say, 
was  a  small  palace,  without  lavishness,  without  vulgarity. 
Its  motto  might  have  been  that  which  Pericles  ascribes 
to  the  Athenians :  We  pursue  the  Beautiful  with  refine- 
ment and  economy. 

A  life  of  this  kind,  serenely  and  moderately  luxurious, 
nourished  by  art  and  literature,  by  the  beauties  of  nature 
and  the  graces  of  social  intercourse,  has  little  or  nothing 
to  commend  itself  to  the  Puritanic  conscience,  which 
many  of  us  cherish  as  a  luxury  or  a  necessity.  It  is  a 
working  model,  on  a  reasonable  scale,  of  Tennyson's 
"Palace  of  Art" — the  life  of  the  genuine  Epicurean,  not 
of  the  common  herd,  who  works  out  the  real  rule  and  pre- 
cepts of  Epicurus,  in  tranquil  enjoyment  of  the  most 
refined  and  enduring  pleasure,  material  or  intellectual. 
I  may  say,  in  passing,  that  it  is  by  no  means  necessarily 
a  self-centered  life,  as  it  is  based  upon  human  intercourse 
and  the  quiet  rational  study  of  the  human  documents. 
It  offers,  in  fact,  an  ideal  of  leisurely  refinement  which 
may  be  urged  especially  on  the  attention  of  fatigued 
millionaires,  or  of  any  elderly  professional  worker  whose 
time  has  come  for  retirement  to  the  tranquil  haven 
bounded  by  the  twilight  western  shore. 

But  such  an  ideal  was  very  far  from  satisfying  Mr. 
Fiske,  or  compassing  the  measure  of  his  activities  and 
interests.  It  was  rather  an  outward  semblance  of  egoism 
which   belied   him,  forced  upon  him  by  circumstances 


John  Safford  Fiske  15 

which  might  almost  have  excused  him  if  he  had  sunk 
into  the  role  of  the  valetudinarian,  deliberately  placing 
one  foot  in  the  grave.  For  many  years  he  was  afflicted 
with  a  disease,  annoying  and  tiresome  in  the  extreme,  to 
which  many  men  would  have  succumbed,  retiring  from 
society  and  pestering  their  family  and  intimate  friends 
with  endless  Jeremiads.  We  all  know  how  Carlyle  took 
the  world  into  his  confidence,  how  his  dyspepsia  assumed 
an  epic  importance  and  his  melodious  lamentations  be- 
came even  a  money-making  asset.  Mr.  Fiske  bore  his 
burden  so  lightly,  so  gaily,  so  silently  that  few  of  his 
friends  suspected  it  at  all,  and  none  of  his  acquaintances. 
He  not  merely  kept  his  place  in  the  social  procession — 
he  was,  in  his  modest  way,  one  of  its  leaders.  When  I 
said  to  him:  "You  have  shown  yourself  heroic,"  he 
disclaimed,  "Oh,  no.  I  have  merely  used  a  little  com- 
mon sense."  A  most  uncommon  sense  certainly — an 
effacement,  when  we  reflect  on  the  fate  of  families  where 
the  invalid  draws  a  pall  over  the  whole  household ;  and 
at  last  when  effacement  meant  peril,  the  effort  made  to 
keep  an  appointment  which  would  cheer  the  solitary 
hours  of  an  imprisoned  friend,  brought  on  the  final 
attack  that  definitely  sentenced  him  to  death.  As  we 
parted  in  June,  when  the  stupor  of  approaching  doom 
was  creeping  on,  he  even  apologized  to  me  for  spoiling 
the  pleasures  we  had  dreamed  of  together,  the  excursions 
he  had  planned  as  my  cicerone  through  the  enchanted 
sleep  of  old  hill-towns — he  apologized  for  his  illness  and 
for  my  disappointment.  Invincible  thoughtfulness 
and  courtesy!  I  felt  as  if,  poor  man,  he  were  apologiz- 
ing for  his  death — that  last  annoyance  which  we  have 
the  inalienable  right  to  inflict  upon  our  friends.  *H|| 

This  then  was  the  background  of  a  life  which  bore  the 


16  Hobart  College 

superficial  aspect  of  sybaritism.  He  might  have  buried 
himself  in  a  sanatorium,  he  might  have  lived  pining  and 
puling,  a  torment  to  his  friends;  he  preferred, like  a  man, 
to  hide  the  thorn  in  his  side,  to  give  and  take,  to  warm 
both  hands  before  the  fire  of  life,  to  be  a  light  and  flame 
to  others, — to  the  Ligurian  folks  who  were  his  neighbors 
and  to  the  foreign  colony  of  Alassio.  When  the  great 
earthquake  visited  the  Riviera  in  1889,  he  described  to  me 
the  horror  and  panic  in  which  he  had  lived  day  after  day 
for  several  months.  "Why  did  you  not  run  away?' 
I  asked.  "Oh,'  he  replied,  "I  could  not  run  away  and 
desert  the  good  people  of  my  household." 

He  craved  relations  of  mutual  helpfulness  and  affec- 
tion. He  had  a  profound  respect  for  some  of  the  remark- 
able qualities  and  virtues  of  the  Italian  peasantry.  He 
was  ready  to  make  friends  of  them,  nor  did  he  insist  that 
they  should  be  his  distant  and  humble  friends.  He 
remembered  the  names  and  careers  of  his  peasant 
neighbors.  One  of  his  most  devoted  friends  was  the 
coachman  who  had  driven  him  month  after  month  in 
these  out  of  the  way  regions  where  he  had  collected 
materials  for  his  articles  on  Ligurian  art  and  architecture 
— a  man  for  his  sober  demeanor  and  intelligence  fit  to  be 
the  friend  of  any  gentleman,  and  doubtless  a  better  judge 
of  pictures  and  church  edifices  than  most  gentlemen 
who  cross  the  Atlantic  with  full  pocket-books  to  chase 
after  culture  in  their  automobiles.  Though  fastidious 
in  his  tastes,  Mr.  Fiske  was  a  genuine  democrat  in  his 
practice;  he  carried  out  in  his  life  the  doctrine  of  the 
brotherhood  of  man.  He  remained  an  American 
citizen;  but  that  fact  had  little  to  do  with  his  attitude. 
He  was  more  French  than  American  in  his  genuine 
sentiment  of  egalite  and  fraternity,  and  in  his  practice  of 


John  Safford  Fiske  17 

that  belief.  By  equality  I  do  not  of  course  mean  equality 
of  powers  and  talents — a  condition  which  never  exists, 
but  equality  in  the  fundamental  attributes  of  humanity 
— in  the  appeal  to  human  sympathy.  Peasant  or  prince, 
contadina  or  marchesa,  he  understood  all  classes  alike, 
he  penetrated  their  hearts,  and  drew  near  to  them  by  his 
penetration;  he  divined  their  sentiments,  and  drew  them 
by  his  sympathy.  He  was  simpatico,  at  once  fastidious 
and  democratic.  He  understood  and  prized  the  golden 
heart  of  the  Ligurian  maid-of -all- work  just  as  well  as  he 
did  the  charming  and  titled  ladies  who  were  often  drawn 
to  Costa  Lupara  by  the  wit  and  fascinations  of  their  host. 
His  social  gift  was  remarkable ;  his  response  was  as  quick 
and  sure  as  the  stroke  of  a  silver  bell.  It  always  had  an 
unexpected  turn  of  wit  and  good  sense.  He  never  said  a 
foolish  or  inept  thing.  Wide  and  interesting  as  was  his 
experience,  with  a  hoard  of  sparkling  anecdote,  his 
improvised  coinage  was  more  precious  and  sparkling 
still.  He  could  hobnob,  if  need  be,  with  a  brigand  (with- 
out adopting  his  code) ;  he  was  rather  courted  by 
grandes  dames ;  he  was  adored  by  the  good  people  of  his 
household  and  neighborhood.  They  paid  him  back  in 
his     own    coin. 

I  do  not  care  to  enquire  if  there  never  was  a  grain  of 
self-interest  in  their  devotion.  Are  we  all  free  from  it  in 
our  own  social  circles?  " Gifts  even  with  the  Gods 
prevail."  But  the  smiling,  watchful,  caressing  service, 
the  small  courtesies,  the  morning  and  evening  salutation, 
who  can  forget  these  that  has  experienced  them  in  the 
perfect  Italian  household?  Who  will  not  lament  that 
such  ideals  of  service  are  passing,  or  deny  that  they 
may  come  again  with  a  millennium  when  the  stubborn 
assertion  of  rights  shall  become  needless  and  the  tempest 


18  Hobart  College 

of  conflict  between  classes  have  subsided  into  calm. 
Mr.  Fiske  could  not  admire  that  armed  neutrality,  that 
perpetual  declaration  of  independence  which  subsists 
between  employer  and  employed  in  the  United  States 
and  which,  let  us  hope,  marks  only  one  ugly  stage  in  the 
emancipation  of  the  working  man.  He  wanted  to  love 
and  be  loved. 

In  the  midst  of  a  colony  of  delightful  and  clever  people 
who  in  spite  of  their  cleverness  viewed  the  smallest  trifles 
of  life  with  microscopic  eyes,  whose  horizon  was  too 
often  bounded  by  the  lovely  headlands  of  Santa  Croce 
and  Capo  Mele,  he  kept  his  wide  outlook  on  life,  he 
retained  a  true  perspective  in  his  judgments,  and  held  on 
his  way  not  perturbed  by  the  tempests  that  are  brewed 
over  afternoon  teacups.  He  played  his  proper  part  in 
that  small  delightful  world,  hemmed  in  by  the  olive- 
green  promontories,  which  he  dearly  loved,  though  he 
looked  far  beyond  it,  cherishing  the  recollections  of  a 
life  full  of  the  most  varied  sympathies  and  friendships, 
broadened  by  literary  studies  and  by  a  vital  acquaintance 
with  the  personalities  of  many  centuries ;  for  his  favorite 
study  was  biography.  Immersed,  too,  as  he  was  in  this 
charmed  circle,  he  was  curiously  independent  of  its 
prejudices,  most  sturdy  and  masculine  in  abiding  by  his 
own  decisions.  He  knew  well  who  were  his  real  friends, 
and  was  staunch  in  his  devotion  to  them,  so  staunch 
that,  at  times,  his  firmness  wore  the  air  of  obstinacy. 
It  was  a  pardonable  failing  if  this  loyalty  once  or  twice 
held  out  against  what  he  believed  to  be  purely  the  cackle 
of  the  gossips.  It  is  better  to  be  deceived  once  in  a  score 
of  times  than  to  lose  one's  faith  in  humankind,  or  to 
narrow  one's  social  standards. 

In  one  of  his  later  letters  to  The  Nation, Mr.  Fiske  sum- 


John  Safford  Fiske  19 

marizes  and  discusses  with  especial  interest  Fogazzaro' s 
powerful  novel,  II Santo.  From  that  penetrating  analysis 
by  one  who  knew  well  the  spirit  of  Italians  and  of  the 
Papacy,  I  extract  a  few  paragraphs  which  throw  light  on 
the  critic  himself,  revealing  his  own  temperament  and 
his  ideas  on  certain  ultimate  questions : 

"Benedetto,  whom  'Saint  Simeon  Stylites  might  have 
mistaken  for  a  brother'  is  more  than  a  mere  ascetic 
striving  to  atone  for  his  sins.  While  his  teachings  thrill 
with  the  spirit  of  the  sermon  on  the  mount,  he  recognizes 
that  the  theory  of  evolution  may  explain  the  history  of 
the  human  race,  or  that  right  living  is  more  important 
than  right  belief.  #  #  *  He  clings  solely  to  what  is 
essential  and  eternal  in  religion." 

"Is  it  possible  for  a  Benedetto  to  prevail  with  the 
Vatican?  Fogazzaro  gives  us  little  hope.  He  continually 
represents  the  higher  clergy  in  any  but  favorable 
colors.  We  have  them  arrogant,  worldly,  intolerant, 
place-seekers,  politicians,  and  not  scrupulous  ones  either. 
Even  the  Pope — whose  figure  as  drawn  here  reminds  one 
of  a  beautiful  statue  illuminated  from  within — who 
strongly  impresses  us  with  his  dignity,  his  gentleness, 
sweetness,  and  purity,  reveals  himself  as  much  a  states- 
man as  a  priest ;  he  cannot  govern  his  church  according 
to  the  ideas  of  the  saints,  who  are  few,  when  he  must 
always  have  an  eye  to  the  scribes  and  pharisees,  who  are 
many.  He  is  glad  to  serve  Benedetto  in  a  particular 
matter,  but  he  cannot  hope  to  satisfy  him  completely 
until  they  shall  meet,  as  indeed  he  trusts  they  will,  in 
another  world." 

"No,  Fogazzaro  makes  it  clear  that  the  struggle  for  a 
purified  faith  can  look  for  little  sympathy  in  a  church 
governed  as  this  is.     #     #     #     The  great  church  is  the 


20  Hobart  College 

great  body  of  the  faithful  who  believe  in  God,  and  this 
remains  unchanged,  no  matter  what  may  be  the  errors  of 
its  rulers.  *  #  #  Whatever  may  be  its  effect  upon 
the  visible  Church,  if  any,  this  book  is  a  distinct  gain  for 
the  invisible  one  which  reigns  in  the  hearts  of  all  good 
men." 

As  a  believer  in  an  invisible  Church  which  reigns  in 
the  hearts  of  all  good  men — a  believer  in  a  formula  so 
broad  and  spiritual — Mr.  Fiske  could  naturally  take  little 
interest  in  the  conflicts  of  Churches  Militant.  He  would 
be  liable  to  misunderstanding  by  those  who  hold  the  keys 
and  demand  countersigns  and  passports  to  the  gates  of 
Heaven.  In  fact,  he  was  misunderstood.  "He  must  be 
a  Roman  Catholic,"  said  a  certain  Anglican  divine, 
"he  is  on  such  good  terms  with  the  priests."  Well,  he 
was  on  good  terms  with  the  priests.  Some  of  them 
had  been  almoners  of  his  charities;  one  high-minded 
and  cultivated  spirit  among  them  was  his  devoted  friend. 
During  an  arid  summer  he  had  supplied  his  neighbors  at  a 
convent  with  water,  at  a  time  when  water  was  very 
scarce  and  precious.  He  was  indeed  a  running  brook 
of  little  kindnesses,  les  petits  soins,  to  all  who  came  in  his 
way.  Anima  naturaliter  Christiana!  His  charities  blos- 
somed unseen — they  were  not  a  preachment.  They  were 
the  efflorescence,  silent,  perennial  of  a  sweet  soul  that 
gave  much  and  asked  no  praise,  but  affection.  And 
affection  he  certainly  had.  It  was  touching  to  observe 
the  respectful  sympathy  with  which  he  was  watched  as 
he  faded  in  his  latter  days — how  children  greeted  him 
with  smiles  during  his  painful  afternoon  drives  and 
fishermen  took  off  their  hats  to  their  Don  Giovanni; 
how  the  good  people  in  his  employ  discussed  his  case 
sadly,  as  if  he  were  a  member  of  their  own  family,  or 


John  Safford  Fiske  21 

plotted  for  his  recovery,  and  mourned  his  decline  day 
by  day.  When  the  final  moments  came,  they  claimed 
their  post  at  his  bedside,  and  shared  the  privilege  of 
ministration  with  wealthier  and  titled  friends.  They  fol- 
lowed him  to  his  grave,  while  "his  own  nightingales  sang 
a  requiem,  mingled  with  the  songs  of  the  distant  con- 
tadini  as  they  cut  the  hay."  They  will  remember  and 
miss  him!  keenly  and  fondly  as  the  members  of  that 

ESS 

colony  to  whom  he  was  a  central  and  representative 
figure. 

p  So  to  be  missed  and  mourned  by  high  and  low  was  a 
meed  which  he  deserved,  which  he  had  earned  by  his 
charm  and  grace  of  life,  by  daily  deeds  of  thoughtfulness 
and  benevolence.  They  ran  noiselessly,  as  I  have  said, 
like  a  little  stream  that  hides  itself,  but  their  hidden 
course  will  be  marked  by  violets  of  tender  remembrance. 


It  is  natural  to  enquire  how  came  Mr.  Fiske  to  take  an 
interest  in  Hobart  College,  living,  as  he  did,  so  far  away 
and  being  the  alumnus  of  a  distant  university?  Nothing 
could  be  more  simple  or  reasonable.  In  1893,  when  on  a 
tour  to  see  the  Chicago  Exposition,  he  made  a  visit  in 
Geneva,  and  delivered  a  lecture  on  the  architecture  of 
French  and  English  cathedrals  before  the  College.  He 
made  the  acquaintance  of  some  of  the  students,  attract- 
ing them  by  the  charm  of  his  manner ;  and  he  looked  with 
interest  into  the  condition  of  our  library.  He  recognized 
also  the  culture  and  intelligence  of  the  attentive  audience 
which  in  its  turn  recognized  his  easy  mastery  of  his  sub- 
ject, and  the  grace  of  the  familiar  style  in  which  he  pre- 
sented it.     He  felt  too  the  refined  and  cordial  hospital- 


22  Hobart  College 

ity  which  welcomed  him  to  many  homes  and  firesides. 
The  gift  of  his  library  was  the  sequel  to  a  happy  visit 
which  he  never  forgot.  Not  disloyal  to  his  own  Univer- 
sity, but  considering  the  needs  of  our  library,  and  the 
quality  of  the  soil  where  his  books  could  plant  seed,  he 
determined  almost  instantly  to  bestow  his  collection 
where  it  would  do  the  most  immediate  good.  From  that 
time  forth  he  used  frequently  to  write  us  lists  of  new 
purchases.  He  cherished  a  plan  of  returning  at  intervals, 
and  delivering  courses  of  lectures  at  the  College,  which 
circumstances  prevented  his  fulfilling. 


TO  THE  ALUMNI: 

Many  times  Hobart  Alumni  have  asked  me,  "Why 
doesn't  the  Herald  have  a  column  that  would  make  the 
paper  of  some  value  to  the  Alumni?'  The  Herald  has 
such  a  department,  but  in  its  present  state  it  is  of  abso- 
lutely no  value.  Why?  Because  you,  the  Alumni,  do 
not  take  the  time  to  drop  the  editor  a  note  on  changes  of 
address,  marriages,  deaths,  etc.,  that  may  come  to  your 
notice.  You  are,  so  to  speak,  at  once  the  College's 
advance  agents  and  the  Herald's  reporters.  If  you  are 
not,  you  should  be.  Without  reporters  can  the  news- 
papers exist?  How  then  do  you  expect  the  "Alumni 
Notes"  editor  to  keep  track  of  what  you  and  other  alumni 
are  doing? 

1  Now  let  us  suppose  you  and  other  alumni  have  done 
your  reporting.  Do  you  know  what  men  in  your  class 
are  doing,  what  improvements  are  being  made  around 
college,  what  the  athletic  teams  are  doing,  etc.?  How 
many  of  you  know  that  our  football  team  this  year  has 
played  four  games,  lost  one  to  Syracuse,  and  won  the 
others,  and  has  a  good  chance  this  year  to  clean  up 
Colgate,  St.  Lawrence,  and  Rochester?  Very  few,  I 
know,  and  only  those  who  live  near  Geneva.  Why  is 
this?  Because  you  do  not  take  the  Herald.  Some  say  the 
price  $1.50  is  too  much.  If  we  can  get  a  hundred  paid 
subscriptions  from  the  Alumni,  we  can  probably  afford  to 
drop  the  price  to  $1.25. 

Will  you,  first  of  all,  help  make  the  paper  a  paper 
representative  of  the  Alumni?  Will  you  also  aid  us  in 
increasing  our  circulation?     I  feel  sure  you  will.     I  never 


UNIVERSITY  OF  ILLINOIS-URBANA 


I  I 


3  0112  110189997 


24 


Hobart  College 


knew  a  Hobart  man  who  was  a  "quitter"  yet,  and  never 
expect  to. 

My  thanks  are  due  to  the  President  and  Faculty  for  the 
space  they  have  allowed  me  to  use  in  this  Bulletin.  It 
was  the  only  way  in  which  I  could  reach  the  whole  body 
of  Alumni. 

H.  R.  Drummond,  '08, 
Editor-in-Chief    Herald. 


